“Okay, I’ll bite.” He cracked eggs into a mixing bowl. “How?”
“Because then you could be the Sassy Gay Uncle, and you’d babysit all the time and give Emma the fashion advice that I never absorbed, and when I have people over for dinner you could do the cooking and basically, you could be my bitch.”
“You know that could all happen anyway.”
“I know.” Her grin was part real, part cover-up. “I’m a tragic figure. Indulge me.”
He wanted to give her a hug and tell her she was triumphant, not tragic, and that he would happily be her bitch if it meant she would lose the loser. But she had made it clear she wasn’t ready to hear any of that. So he made himself shrug and say, “Sorry. No closets involved. You want to eat or not?”
“Of course I do, especially if you’re cooking.”
“Good.” He poured the eggs into a hot pan, gratified by the way she perked up at the sound of the sizzle.
“Oh God.” She inhaled, deep and long, her smile relaxing into something that looked a lot more like the sister he knew. “Someday, you’re going to realize you’re wasting your talents in the landscaping world, and you’re going to open a restaurant and you’ll let me bring the kids there every night and feed us for free. I’ll weigh three hundred pounds and I won’t give a damn, because it will absolutely be worth it.”
“You know it’s just going to be an omelet, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s what you do with it.” She gestured toward the cooktop, where he was adding shredded cheese and herbs to the pan. “It’s like you made a pact with God or someone.”
Not that he had anything against having the Almighty on his side, but Spence was more inclined to give the credit to the fresh thyme he’d grown in the greenhouse. But since it never hurt to let people think he was capable of magic, especially when that someone was the sister who might need a lot more from him if the jackass she’d married ever decided to fuck up again, he would stay silent this time.
“So if you’re not secretly gay, are you saying that the gossip network has missed a juicy morsel?”
“I’m saying there’s no morsel. Yet.”
She paused with her soda can hovering in front of her mouth. “Ah. The all-important ‘yet.’”
“Yeah.” He hesitated, unsure where to start. “See, there’s a possibility that something might happen with someone. A woman,” he added swiftly as her eyes took on a familiar gleam. “But we have a bit of history that could be a problem.”
“Setting aside the irony of you asking me for relationship advice, let’s take this one point at a time. When you say ‘history,’ do you mean there was a pre-existing relationship?”
“Not a romantic one, no.”
“Oh, that was a fine bit of tap-dancing from someone who swears he’s straight. You want to give me a name? Or at the least, a little more insight into this pre-existing relationship?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Jesus on a joystick, show me a relationship that isn’t.”
“There’s parts she knows, which we have dealt with. And parts she doesn’t know about.”
“I’m assuming there’s a yet in there somewhere.”
“Yeah.” He slid the omelet onto a plate and passed it to Livvy. “I keep trying to convince myself I don’t need to tell her everything, but the more I try, the more I dig myself into a whole pit of bullshit.”
Livvy forked up a bite, closed her eyes, and sighed blissfully as she chewed.
“You need me to leave the two of you alone?” he asked after a couple more bites.
“Stuff it. This is a food miracle and I intend to enjoy every bit of it.” She took another bite, then leveled the fork in his direction. “So let me recap. You’re trying to boink someone.”
And people said that men were crude.
“You say there was no previous boinking, but there was some kind of connection or whatever, and that there’s even more stuff in the way that she doesn’t know about. So which Elias sister are we talking?”
Shit. He really needed to expand his circle of people he trusted.
“No, wait.” She rubbed her hands together. “This is like a puzzle. I can figure it out. It could be the oldest one, though from what I hear, she’s married to her career. It’s not Future Mrs. Mayor unless she’s cheating before she’s even married, which I might have believed of her a few years ago, but now? No. And if it was her, I’d have to cuff you for being an idiot. The twins are both blissfully engaged. Besides, I think both of them are out of town more than they’re around. Which leaves the youngest. Annie? Yeah. Annie.” She cut another bite of omelet. “She’s definitely cute enough. She has that whole cheerleader thing going on, and as I recall, you always had a thing for that type, though I still refuse to believe that story about you and Sophie Morelli and the basketball hoop.”
Thank God she was staring into her plate when she said that. He was pretty sure a blind man could have read the guilt in his face.
“But Annie seems a bit young even for you. Also, rumor has it she’s been seen around town having lunch with Darth Daddy once in a while, and though you’re a pretty tolerant guy, I think that would be a deal breaker for you.”
Damn straight.
“Which means you’re trying to get into Bree Elias’s corset.” She licked the back of her fork. “Good luck with that.”
“Interesting reaction.” For the sake of his pride, he added, “Assuming we were talking about Bree, of course.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Spence. I changed your diapers.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Livvy. You’re barely two years older than me. I don’t think Mom was handing me over to you and leaving you in charge while she made dinner.”
“It’s a figure of speech. Get me some water, please. My point is, Bree isn’t your type. Nor are you hers, I would think, given the way she went off on you that time.” She scowled as she reached for the glass he extended. “Totally uncalled for. I still haven’t forgiven her for that one.”
“It wasn’t about me. It was about what she thought I did.”
“So that time you punched Carl had nothing to do with him? Just with what he did?”
Damn it to hell and back. Spence had never said anything to Livvy about that, and Carl had made it clear that he wasn’t about to admit to having his lights decked by Spence. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”
“I didn’t, for sure.” She glanced into her glass. “You’re a macho idiot, baby brother. But thanks.”
“Trust me, it was my pleasure.”
She nodded. “Anyway, back to you and Bree. She made it clear that she can’t stand the sight of your cute little face. So what’s changed?”
Well, I did have my hand between her legs in her office . . .
“We’re on a task force together. The one for Dad’s forest.”
“Really? It’s really going to happen?”
“No guarantees, but it sure looks possible.” And if it kept his sister glowing that way, he would make sure it happened if he had to pay for the whole thing himself. “Anyway, we have to work together on this, and she apologized for that time, and things have been . . . interesting.”
“Interesting, huh?” She chased a last fragment of omelet with her fork “There’s a big difference between making peace with someone so you can work together and boinking that person.”
“Do you have to use that word?”
“You’re my brother. I’ll always think of you in teenage terms. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“You haven’t asked one yet.”
“It was implied. Are you going to tell her the truth?”
“About me, no. That’s nobody’s business but mine.”
Her snort managed to carry almost a decade’s worth of disagreement in one short sound.
“But I might have to tell her about Dad.”
Livvy leaned back in her chair and gave him a long look. When she spoke, her voice was gentler than it had been since she’d arrived.
“This is more than just scoring with her, isn’t it?”
Damn it, why had he chosen to talk to someone who knew him so well? “I never go into something thinking that it’s just about scoring, Miss Elegance.”
“Well, then, you’re one in a million.” Her flip tone didn’t cover the underlying hurt. “But you know, nobody ever said you had to maintain this cone of silence around what happened. Dad’s gone. It’s not like he’s here to be hurt.”
“Are we talking about the same man? The one who broke down crying the day they moved, because he had to leave everything he’d built over his life?”
“He cared about being forced to leave. He cared about being played by someone he had trusted.” She eyed him over her coffee. “You were the one who had a shit fit about his reputation.”
“Maybe so. But you know damned well that reputation matters, especially in a place like Calypso Falls.”
“It does. Not going to pretend it doesn’t. But it’s not the be-all and end-all that you think it is, so if you’re asking my blessing for you to tell Bree what her father did, you have it.”
Was that what he had wanted from her? He could have sworn that all he wanted was insight. But there was no denying that he felt a lot better about opening up to Bree now that he knew it was okay with Livvy.
“Even though you don’t think I should start something with her?”
“For one thing, your love life is your call, not mine. My job is to advise when asked. Anything else, I keep my mouth shut.”
Which was about how he would describe her attitude about him interfering in her marriage. Once again, he reminded himself to play it cool.
“For another thing . . .” Again, she gave him the look. Gentler this time. A little kinder. A little more amused.
“You know,” she said, “I have to admit, I never really bought that whole death rivalry that was between you two back in school. It always felt like you were hiding behind it.”
Hadn’t he said almost the same thing? But he still found it hard to believe.
“I don’t hide behind anything.”
“Oh, you sweet, delusional child. Everybody hides. The only difference is in how fast we admit to it.” She swiveled to check the time on the microwave, grimaced, and pushed out of her chair. “I have to go. Thanks for feeding me.”
“Anytime.”
“Good. The kids and I will be here for dinner.”
“Not tonight,” he said automatically, pulling a knowing “oooooh” from her as she took one last glug of water. When she set the glass down, she gave him a wink.
“Good luck, Lover Boy. Keep me posted.”
“In your dreams.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “Thanks, Liv. Take it easy.”
It wasn’t until she was gone that he realized what she had said.
The kids and I will be here.
No mention of Carl.
“Son of a bitch.”
* * *
Bree was bent over a test she was marking, idly wondering what hallucinogens the student must have been on to come up with some of the answers in front of her—seriously, this kid really listed Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson as a defense mechanism?—when there was a knock at her door. She flipped the test over and called an invitation to enter, but the door was already opening. For one wild second she thought it was Spence, and she glanced at the filing cabinet, now covered with strategically placed pots of cacti.
Then the door swung wide to reveal her father.
Bree reached below her desk and gripped the edge of the drawer. “That invitation wasn’t meant for you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here now so you might as well listen to me. Unless you want me to walk into one of your classes and try to talk to you while you’re teaching.”
She would have loved to call his bluff. She had a feeling it would be a serious mistake.
“Fine.” She glanced at the clock. “You have five minutes. Say what you need to say and leave.”
“What if it takes longer?”
“Then you’ll have as long as it takes for security to get here and escort you out. I advise you to start speaking.”
Damned if he didn’t seem to approve.
“Your mother and I are talking.”
Bree had never had an elephant sit on her chest, but she was pretty sure that if it were to happen, the sensations of having her lungs cave in would be a lot like how she felt as she fought to breathe after Rob’s blunt announcement.
She stared at him, uncertain what to say or do, uncertain how to breathe or think, and some of her shock must have shown because Rob frowned and took two steps closer.
“Jesus, Bree. Are you—”
“I’m fine.” She raised both hands, not in surrender but in an unspoken request—demand—that he stay his distance. “Just . . . don’t come any closer.”
“Sorry,” he said. “But you didn’t seem like . . .” He looked down, gave his head a slight shake, then looked back up at her, a silent plea in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bree.”
Sure. Now he was sorry.
“In the grand scheme of sins committed by you, this is nothing more than a blip.”
Some of the lines in his face relaxed. “That sounds more like you.”
“How you think you have any idea who I am anymore is completely beyond me.”
“Oh, Breezy. I’ll always know you.”
Her stomach clenched. She had a fleeting hope that she might throw up on him, but then she remembered that they were in her office and she, not he, would be the one left living with the lingering stink. Which was a pretty good metaphor for their entire so-called relationship, come to think of it.
“Mom is free to do whatever she chooses,” she said carefully. “I’m not sure why you feel you need to tell me.”
“Maybe because I want you to know that you’re the lone holdout.”
That couldn’t be true. Okay, her sisters were all in various stages of reconnecting . . . and now Neenee . . .
“Wait a second. What about Margie?”
“Margie is in a different category.”
Well, that was undeniably true.
“But, yes. I had coffee with her yesterday.”
Despite herself, Bree would have loved to have watched that one.
“I’m surprised your head is still attached to your neck.”
“I might be a former criminal, Bree, but I’m not an idiot. I chose a place with tables too wide for her to reach across.”
The mental image was almost enough to make her smile.
“So I’m the only one keeping you from a perfect record, and you want me to give in so you can tick me off your list? Sorry. Not gonna happen.” She checked the clock. “Three minutes left.”
“This has nothing to do with a record.”
“On the contrary,” she said. “It has a lot to do with yours.”
If she had expected him to look ashamed, or guilty, or pained—or anything other than resigned—she was sorely disappointed.
“I’ve explained it to your sisters. I know you talk to them, so if you want the details, they have them. But the long and short of it is, I screwed up, I regret it more than you will ever understand, but I can’t turn back time, so all I can do now is move forward and try to use what I’ve learned to help other folks in the same boat.”
It was a pretty speech. And yes, her sisters had made sure to keep her updated in their dealings with him—not because they were trying to change her mind, she knew, but because they had all agreed a long time ago that when it came to Rob, they needed to be on the same page.
“And Mom?”
�
��What about her?”
“What are you telling her?”
“I can’t see how that’s any of your business.”
She leaned back in her chair and made a show of checking the time. Fewer than two minutes to go. If she got on a roll, she could filibuster him.
“You know,” she said, drawing out the words and making them sound almost conversational, “that’s an interesting perspective coming from you. Especially since you weren’t here to watch Mom spend every minute of every day and every night trying to keep things together for us. The others might have been too young to remember what it did to her, but I wasn’t. And you know what? I might find it in me to understand what you did to us. It’s not going to happen, but there’s a statistical chance that it could happen, say, if the fate of the free world depended on it. But there is no way in this world or any other that I could ever forgive or forget what you did to Mom.”
She’d ended too early, but it was too perfect a spot to stop. Especially when she saw what it did to him. With those few words, she had stripped away his bluster and revealed the broken shell that lay beneath.
He seemed so small, so frail, that she almost felt sorry for him.
But not quite.
“There’s a group in town trying to get rid of you,” she continued. “Did you know that? They think you have no right to be building your future in Calypso Falls, and I happen to agree with them.” She picked up her phone. “In fact, I wasn’t sure I had the time, but now that you’ve seen fit to barge into my place of employment, it seems the choice is clear. I’ll be working with them. I’ll be giving them every bit of information I know about you so they can use it against you. I’m going to expose your weak spots and give them all the insights I can, and at the end, you will find that though you might still be able to live here, you’re not going to be able to work here. You’re not welcome in this town or in my life.” She raised her phone. “And if you’re not walking out the door by the time I count to three, I’m calling security. One . . .”
“Bree—”
“Two.”
He let out a huff, shook his head, and left. Bree stared at the empty door for too long, waiting to see if he would come back.
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